


fighting the good fight

by DesperateMannequins



Category: Bleach, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe Zone, Crossover, Crossovers are fun, Dimension Travel, Gen, cursing, featuring Ichigo's unrealistic stamina, s6e9 twd au, some violence, vague handwavey hogyoku magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 04:58:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12005523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesperateMannequins/pseuds/DesperateMannequins
Summary: Ichigo helps fight off the zombie horde that threatens Alexandria after stumbling across and being recruited by Glenn and Enid.





	fighting the good fight

**Author's Note:**

> wips? what wips?? ahahaaaa im drowning in them send help
> 
> I love crossovers. I really do. Very much so. Almost as much as time travel. Also Glenn, who is a cinnamon roll and honestly Did Not Deserve _That._

Gasping, Ichigo sits up jerkily. His hand is clenched around Zangetsu, thankfully, but everything else is unfamiliar to him. He's sitting on hard ground and in a some sort of warehouse wearing what looks like what he wore the last time he was in his human body. The only thing wrong is that they have the same amount of damage that his spirit clothes did, showing the sluggishly bleeding cuts and gashes through the holes. This must be some sort of illusion because a minute ago Ichigo was _finally_ about to finish off Aizen. He had felt the Hogyoku giving to Zangetsu’s sharp edge, seen the crazed desperation in Aizen's eyes as he realised he had been defeated, had a single flash of pure, complete _relief_ that the war was going to be over once and for all…

But then a blinding flash of white had burst from the Hogyoku.

Now Ichigo's in some random building, shaking with exhaustion and rage.

“That fucking piece of mother fucking shit!” Ichigo screams, lurching to his feet. Aizen, the Hogyoku, Urahara for fucking _creating_ the damn thing, they are all getting a giant ass kicking as soon as Ichigo gets out of wherever the hell he is now. Biting his lip to stay focused, he painfully makes his way to the door. He can only hope Aizen isn't healing while Ichigo isn’t around to smack him back down.

Opening the door, Ichigo inhales sharply and promptly chokes on the smell of rot.

There are dead bodies standing and walking. Dozens of them, wandering without direction in the street as far as he can see. Their flesh is visibly decomposed, sometimes sliding off when a creature jerks too quickly. One is stuck in a fence, mouth gaping open and arms stretching towards nothing despite half its body being a pile of mush. They moan lowly, like they're in pain.

“No,” Ichigo whispers. Panicked, he looks desperately at the faces of the monsters. How many people died from Aizen’s plan? What did Aizen do so that the dead’s souls aren't allowed to escape their bodies?

There's no one he recognizes; a cold comfort in the face of this level of devastation.

This must be an illusion, Ichigo thinks rapidly, but why would Aizen or the Hogyoku choose something so unreal? Especially when they didn't even use the faces of his loved ones. It makes no sense.

Just then, one of the dead notices him. It snarls and shuffles toward Ichigo, one arm raising in his direction. Others start to come forward too, following the commotion.

Gritting his teeth, Ichigo steps out to meet them. He has no idea how to break the illusion, so he'll play along for now. Slashing Zangetsu, he tries to use Getsuga Tensho to no effect. Ichigo growls and instead simply takes off the heads of two monsters.

From then on, Ichigo comes to learn three things. The first is that he is still strong and fast, but only to extent his human body is. The second is that the dead only are laid to rest through head damage. The third is that, though the dead are almost never ending, they're slow.

Ichigo fights his way through to the woods, taking out the creatures as he goes. His wounds still haven't healed yet and he doesn't think they will anytime soon, either. Jogging is painful but Ichigo manages to get far enough away that he can't hear any moaning.

His shirt and pants have a mixture of his own blood and sweat and various fluids from the dead covering them. Ichigo wants to find a place to meditate and talk with Zangetsu but he fears if he stops and sits down he'll just pass out.

Using the trees as occasional crutches, he stumbles out into another patch of road. This stupid illusion is getting frustrating, Ichigo thinks, spitting some blood out. He can't tell for sure, but he believes it's been about an hour or two. He needs to find shelter.

A yell breaks the quiet and Ichigo's head snaps in the direction it came from. Another one has his body moving, despite the bone deep weariness.

He comes to find two people surrounded by the dead. One is a man with dark hair covered in dried blood and the other is a girl about his age, though her wide eyes remind painfully of Yuzu. They both look grim and are hacking at the creatures around them with knives.

“That's not gonna work for long,” Ichigo mutters, readying Zangetsu. Hoping they aren't going to try and kill him when he's done helping, Ichigo throws himself at the horde.

The two are visibly startled at a random man with a sword taking down the dead, but don't let it distract them for long. Together they get rid of most of the zombies and dart for safety.

Ichigo's breathing is a little labored but he keeps up. After a few minutes, the man stops but makes sure he's between Ichigo and the girl. Letting a nearby tree take his weight, Ichigo makes sure to keep his sword in a non threatening position.

Cutting to the chase, the black haired man asks, “Who are you? Why did you help?”

Ichigo blinks. English? At least he has some experience with the language, he thinks with a grimace. “I am Ichigo Kurosaki,” he begins, watching their confused reaction to his obvious accent, “and I helped you because you needed help.”

The man nods, still wary but now with a sense of urgency. “I'm Glenn, that's Enid.” He looks at Enid, seeming to ask something. She narrows her eyes and glances at Ichigo, taking in his sword and dirty clothes. Hesitantly, she twitches her shoulder. Glenn walks toward him slowly, putting his knife back into his belt. “Okay, I see you're injured but you can obviously still fight. Our friends are in danger. Can you help us?” he asks earnestly. “We can take care of your wounds in exchange.”

Frowning, Ichigo takes stock of the situation. He's in some sort of hostile illusion, can't access his powers, needs somewhere safe to meditate but first needs to see to his injuries and sleep, preferably along with getting some food, and these people need help. Worst comes to pass and it’s a ruse to kill him, Ichigo knows he can escape. It's not really much of a choice.

“I will help you,” he says. The relief in their eyes solidifies his resolve.

—

They arrive to chaos. A large chunk of the fence of what Ichigo assumes is their home is down and the dead swarm through. Gunshots ring out and screams of terror echo throughout the settlement.

Glenn leads them through, his own gun joining the cacophony until a feminine voice calls out his name. He jerks toward it but stops to look back at Ichigo.

Quickly assessing himself, Ichigo knows he'll be fine for now. “Go!” he barks before getting lost in the familiar motions of fighting. The dead are numerous and he tries to help where he can. Most people don't even acknowledge him, though a few get confused and somewhat hostile expressions before they go back to fighting. The sun sets and the creatures still continue to come and Ichigo still continues to swing Zangetsu. At some point, the lake catches fire and a majority the dead turns toward it like moths would. Ichigo knows he pushed himself too far when he tries to lift up Zangetsu and can't anymore.

“Fuck,” Ichigo grunts as his knees hit pavement. One of the dead lunges toward him and he can only snarl back, infuriated at his own weakness.

“Ichigo!” someone yells. The zombie above him gets a knife to the head and is pushed away. It's Glenn, crouching beside him and saying something Ichigo can't quite make out. Eyes rolling back, Ichigo hopes he doesn't get killed while unconscious.

—

Blinking open his eyes, Ichigo flexed his right hand. He doesn't have Zangetsu. Ichigo sighs. At least he's not dead. He sits up, gasping in pain as he does so. Still injured, though Glenn seems to have held up his end of the bargain. Ichigo looks at his bandage covered body and scowls at the scars.

“Quite the collection ya got there.”

Ichigo jerks his head up, hissing at the ache in his back. He didn't even notice the man in the room with him.

“Easy, kid, you've been out a few days,” he says, not moving from his sprawl across from Ichigo's bed. They study each other for a moment. “Name’s Rick,” he offers gruffly.

“Ichigo Kurosaki,” he mutters, looking around the room. No sign of his partner, and no one else beyond Rick.

“Where’re you from?”

Narrowing his eyes, Ichigo says shortly, “Japan. Where am I?”

“Don't be thick, kid. Do you have a group?” Rick growls.

Scowling, Ichigo almost says yes before he thinks about the illusion. It seems like this is some apocalypse and a group seems to mean more than a collection of friends or belonging to the Shinigami. So instead, he says, “No.” Better to keep it simple and let them fill out the details themselves.

Rick seems to measure him up. “How'd you get those sword wounds?”

“I was fighting.”

“Why?”

“He was going to hurt my friends,” Ichigo says fiercely, daring the other man to say anything about it.

Rick instead asks, “And where are these friends’a yours?”

All the wind leaves Ichigo's sails. Resignedly he sighs, “I don't know.”

“Do’ya know if they're alive?”

“No.”

“Would they know if you're alive?”

“I don't know.”

Rick scratches his scruffy chin and gets up. Ichigo straightens from his slouch instinctively.

“Kid,” he starts, staring at the window contemplatively, “you're either hiding something or got the short end of the stick when it came to luck. But you saved Glenn and Enid, you fought walkers for hours without knowing whether or not we’d kill you when we were safe, and you were injured to boot. Those are all things me’n my group can respect. It was dumb, definitely. But respectable. So I'm gonna let you stay, for now. At least until you're healed up.” He tilts his head. “How many people ya killed?”

Ichigo scowls at the question. “None. Only monsters.” Rick hums. With narrow eyes Ichigo asks, “How many have _you_ killed?”

Rick looks at him from the corner of his eye, but instead of answering merely turns to the door. “We locked up your sword with our other weapons but we'll give it back in a day or two. You're welcome to wander but know stealing will be punished. No fighting with the residents or you're walker food. If I get any reports of suspicious behavior, you will be interrogated. Any questions?”

“Yeah, where the hell am I, old man?” Ichigo growls.

That stops Rick, and he looks torn between laughter and kicking Ichigo out right then. He chooses laughter and simply leaves.

“Fucking prick,” Ichigo mutters in Japanese. Leaning back, he decides to meditate. Or at least try.

Fifty-three frustrating minutes pass, a clock’s ticking grating on Ichigo's nerves, and he still can't hear any of his inner spirits. He had been slightly on edge since he realized he couldn't use his powers but _knowing_ he can't reach Zangetsu hits him straight in the heart.

Unwilling to simply accept it, Ichigo gets up. He feels better than before, which he's thankful for. He needs to spar. Maybe they'd let him have Zangetsu back if it was under the guise of training.

He's almost to the entrance when he remembers he doesn't have a shirt on. Ichigo scowls. If they don't want to see his scars they can look away. He leaves the house with a confident stride.

It looks better than it did when he first got there. The fact it's no longer full of walkers is a big factor for that. It's quiet for the most part. Not great for what he has in mind but getting familiar with his surroundings never hurt.

—

“Ichigo?” He turns to see Glenn and a woman just exiting a house. The woman seems a bit startled at his lack of shirt but smiles at him, reserved though it may be. Ichigo nods in acknowledgement. Glenn grins and says, “This is Maggie, my wife. Maggie, Ichigo.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Ichigo. I want to thank you for helping with the walkers. It probably would have been a lot worse without you there.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Ichigo states. Switching subjects he asks, “Does anyone here know how to fight? I want to spar.”

Both seem taken aback by the odd shift but Glenn says, “Um, I took a few martial arts classes a while ago if you mean hand-to-hand?”

Lips twisting, Ichigo says, “There is no one who fights with a sword?”

Now Maggie seems a bit more wary. “You should be resting, definitely not sword fighting.”

“I think I can take it,” Ichigo says wryly, spreading his arms for emphasis. He feels his skin pull tight around the edges. It's irritating; he hasn't had to deal with injuries for more than a few days at a time since he first started learning how to control his powers.

“As is, Ichigo, you look like a warning for not running with scissors,” Maggie shoots back, eyebrows arched.

At Ichigo's mutinous expression, Glenn steps in, hands raised peacefully. “I gotta say, you really should still be resting. You ever meditate? That'd probably help you more than doing anything physical right now.”

Ichigo sighs, crossing his arms and looking away. “I tried. It did not work.”

In an odd voice, Glenn asks, “How… how old are you?”

Glancing at him, Ichigo answers truthfully, “Sixteen. Why?”

When Glenn doesn't respond, Maggie jumps in and says, “You just seem much older, is all. Um, a few of ours are actually the same age as you. You've already met Enid, but there's also Carl. Wanna meet him?” Ichigo looks between them suspiciously but nods grudgingly. Smiling, Maggie suggests, “Why don’t you show him around Glenn?”

“Yeah, I’ll… do that.” Glenn collects himself and, after pecking Maggie on the cheek, leads Ichigo down the street at a purposefully slow pace. Ichigo swallows his irritation, instead taking in the surroundings.

Most homes look pristine, minus a few smears of blood. The pavement and sidewalk are the same. Beyond a small group dragging the dead out from the lake, there's almost no people outside. Those that are stride to and from various houses, sometimes carrying boxes or guns or what looks like packaged food. Actually, Ichigo realizes, everyone has at least some weapon on them, be it a gun or a blade. No swords, though, he notes sourly.

“I'm sorry about how I reacted,” Glenn speaks, breaking Ichigo from his observation. He grunts questioningly. A smile twitches on Glenn's face but is gone in an instant. “About your age. I always forget how this whole,” he gestures vaguely, “ _thing_ tends to hit kids the hardest.”

“I'm not a kid,” Ichigo says mulishly.

“Sorry,” Glenn smirks, looking unapologetic. “You really do look older. I mean, I've never seen a sixteen year old that ripped since Before and even then I was watching the Olympics and thinking 'There’s no way that guy is sixteen!’”

Not knowing what to say, Ichigo merely hums. He absently picks at a bandage on his arm.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Ichigo hesitates to say “good teachers”, because Urahara wasn't actually that great beyond forcing him to move or get horrifically injured, and the Vizards weren't much better. Zangetsu certainly helped him but the zanpakuto spirit is part of him, more or less. Ichigo ends up flatly stating, “I had teachers.”

“Right,” Glenn says awkwardly, taking his shortness for some kind of anger. Looking ahead, he waves to a man sitting on a porch. “Abraham! How you feeling?”

The man stands up, getting out of the shadows and revealing a mustache the likes of which Ichigo has never seen before. He blinks rapidly and can't help but stare. _Tessai_ would be jealous.

Abraham stares right back, ignoring Glenn's question and saying, “You the guy who was out here cutting down walkers for four hours?”

Shaking himself, Ichigo nods. “Ichigo Kurosaki.” He bows slightly out of reflex.

The man startles before laughing. “Now what the hell did you just say? Cheego Curo-sakee?”

Ichigo grits his teeth, hardly keeping from snarling. “My name is Ichigo Kurosaki. Do I have to slow down for you?” he sneers.

“Whoa, whoa, let's calm down, Ichigo,” Glenn says, throwing a look at Abraham. “He wasn't trying to be an ass, that's just his personality.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. That's a weird name, kid. You're Carrot-top as far as I'm concerned,” Abraham snorts, going inside the house with a rude gesture.

Glenn sighs, asking, “You always this angry or what?”

“I want my sword,” Ichigo says.

Shaking his head incredulously, Glenn waves his hand toward Abraham's house. “You want me to give you a goddamn _sword_ after you looked like you were about to start swinging for someone saying your _name_ wrong?”

“I need my sword and I need to spar,” Ichigo insists.

“Yeah, I think I see why you'd need to spar, at least,” Glenn mutters, studying him. “Listen, let's go for a jog. If you still feel up to it, I’ll spar with you. Just hand to hand.” Ichigo scowls. “With someone on standby to make sure you don't hurt yourself too badly. Or me,” Glenn adds warily.

After a short pause, Ichigo caves. “Fine. I agree to your terms. Where do we run?” he asks, looking at the large metal walls dubiously.

“Let’s just follow the road.” Glenn grumbles to himself about cardio as he heads down the road at a faster clip. Ichigo easily picks up a long stride beside him.

It does ease the burning frustration in Ichigo's chest slightly, being allowed to expend some energy. Not quite enough to fall into his inner world, but good for now.

By the time Glenn calls for them to stop, they've gone around the whole compound five times and gotten more than a few curious looks. The man is winded while Ichigo keeps his breathing even to push past the pain from his wounds and burning muscles. They're in front of a house with two people on the porch; one a teen with a bandaged eye and the other a man holding a large knife and a wet stone.

Ichigo's a little wary of them. They both have their eyes on him, assessing much like Abraham did a little while ago. The man tosses them both water bottles, and Ichigo nods in thanks. When Glenn finally can breathe normally again, he introduces them.

“Guys, this is Ichigo; Ichigo, Carl and Daryl.”

“Hello,” Ichigo says stiffly.

Daryl goes back to sharpening a knife. “Rick wants to talk with you,” he says. “He's inside. We'll keep Ichigo company.”

Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Glenn pats Ichigo's shoulder. “I'd say they don't bite, but I'd be lying,” he jokes, making his way up the stairs.

“Helpful,” Ichigo grumbles in Japanese.

Carl tilts his head. “What language is that?”

“Japanese.”

“You don't really look Japanese,” Carl says uncertainly.

“My hair is from my mother.”

Carl swallows, looking away. “Is she still…?”

Catching on immediately, Ichigo can't help but frown. “No. She was killed before… all this.” Probably better to play along with the illusion. Wanting to switch topics, Ichigo asks, “Do you know kenjutsu? Ah, sword fighting?”

“No, Michonne is the only one with a sword around here.”

“Will she spar with me?”

Stepping out onto the porch, Rick rumbles, “Now I told you, kid, you ain't getting that sword a’yours back until we're sure you're not a threat.”

Scowling up at the man, Ichigo growls, “If I wanted you dead, I would not have fought the invaders.”

“We've been burned before. It's not just death we worry about, anymore,” Rick says, sighing and sharing a look with Daryl.

Not quite understanding what being burnt has to do with returning his zanpakuto, Ichigo thins his lips. “I want Zangetsu back. I will leave if you do not trust me here with my partner, but I need him.”

“Okay, let me be clear here: we don’t trust you, yet. You’ve given us a lot of reasons _to_ trust you, but there’s a whole load of ulterior motives you could have—”

“I am from Karakura, Japan,” Ichigo interrupts angrily, fists clenching at his side. “My name is Ichigo Kurosaki. I have two sisters and a father. I have friends I need to protect. I do not know how I got here, or where I am. I know only the English I learned in a classroom. I helped Glenn and the girl. I helped _you_. And _I_ _need my sword_ _chikushō_!*”

Silence reigns the porch. Rick has his eyes narrowed and Carl looks wary. Sitting up from his slouch, Daryl stops sharpening his knife.

Glenn walks out right as Daryl is tightening his grip on his weapon and Ichigo is shifting into a loose fighting stance. “So the damage to the back is—” He stops, taking in the tense air with a startled expression. “Oh come on, I was gone for a _minute!_ ”

“You’re friend is a ‘lil stubborn,” Rick mutters.

“Look, Rick, I’ll get you a review after sparring with the kid, okay? He obviously needs an outlet.” Glenn frowns at Ichigo. “And you! You can’t keep trying to fight everyone you meet. I don’t know how you make friends, but that’s not the way we do it.”

While Ichigo scowls, Rick rubs his eyes and sighs. “Fine. Just as long as it’s before dinner tonight.” He walks back inside, clapping Carl’s shoulder on the way to steer him that way as well.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> *damn it or fuck (uh, looked at several sources and it varied so here's both. let me know if i used it wrong because i'm learning sign language not japanese lol)


End file.
